SGT BUDDY JAMES “DOC” HUGHIE – MARKING THE SIX YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF HIS BEING KIA

On Saturday, February 16, 2013 I had the pleasure of taking our grandson (Buddy’s) son to listen to CNN Anchor, White House Correspondent and author Jake Tapper speak at the Savannah Book Festival.  Mr. Tapper was speaking about his experiences leading up to and including, the writing The Outpost – An Untold Story of American Valor. (http://www.facebook.com/#!/OutpostBook)

Although Buddy was not stationed at Combat Outpost Keating at the time of it’s attack that faithful day of October 3, 2009 he had been through there and had known some of the soldiers.

Jake chronicles some of Buddy’s heroics in this book.  In fact chapter 14 is titled Buddy.

Unfortunately, like our’s, there are thousands of families who have had their lives eternally altered by their loved one being Killed in Action on a foreign battled field.  Our American Hero, Sgt Buddy James “Doc” Hughie is but one of the many.

During the question and answer session at Saturday’s Savannah Book Festival  a woman asked about the War On Terror as it relates to victory.  Further explaining that in WW II some victories were clear.  But with the war in Afghanistan there seems to be no victories.

That got me to thinking about Buddy’s role in the War on Terror, and in particular his personal contributions, as it relates to victories. 

First, there are the two Afghan Army National Soldiers Buddy was credited for saving their lives.  I’d say that is a pretty big victory for those men and their families and friends.  Secondly, Buddy was a medic.  He volunteered for every mission when/where they would go into villages to inoculate children against diseases. Hundreds upon hundreds of children.  Today there are Afghan teenagers alive and well, enjoying their lives because Buddy gave them the gift of life, the prevention of diseases.

The American public, as detached as they are from the horrors of war and how it still effects many of us, may not see victories in a traditional sense of the word.  But rest assured, victories do exist in many Afghan families, villages and regions because of American soldiers like SGT BUDDY JAMES “DOC” HUGHIE.

WE WILL NEVER FORGET!

Some of my life’s experiences have been pretty miraculous.

Much has been debated over the centuries as to the existance of God.  Many who do not believe in God challenge, “Where’s your proof?”  Generally speaking that question is usually followed-up with name calling (both to the one who believes and the One, Whom we believe in).

I don’t have the answers for them.  I do know that I have (personally) had some very unique experiences that anchor my beliefe in the Most High God.  At one time in my life when I caused myself to “hit bottom” I reached out… again to the Comforter.  I did so because I “heard” Him say, “Come to me now or I will not pursue you any longer.”  You see up unto that point in my life I had used God as my Almighty Bail Bondsman.  No not to get out of jail but like, “Oh Lord, if You will just get me out of this mess…” kind of thing.  I know that the Bible says that God will never leave us nor forsake us and at this particular time I felt like God was saying to me, “I won’t pursue you.  It’s all going to be up to you to get yourself through life.  Do you really think you can do it all on your own?”  When I say I “heard” I don’t mean an audible voice but rather a split second conversation of sorts.

So anyway, I was in this dire situation when He came to me in a most dramatic way.  I have no scientific proof and I don’t need scientific proof.   In that moment even the air felt different.  What I do know is that when He and I finished our conversation I was transformed from an angry, frightened and unsure about my future man to a man of immeasurable peace and completely comfortable about what the future held for me.  I can not begin to explain the overwhelming sense of… I don’t know, peace and contentment just doesn’t seem adequate to describe it.  I was changed.  My situation and circumstances had not changed but I had.

That was the moment for me.  The defining moment that anchored my faith.   Of course I have had many challenges since then.  Difficult and painful challenges.  And I have not always answered those challenges the way I should have.  But, I have been able to recognise where I’ve made poor choices and turn from them back to Him.  Before The Encounter I may or may not have recognized my failure and if I had would likely have felt a sense of “Ha, got away with that one.”

Another spiritual marker in my life was when my father died.  That was such a dark, depressing time and also a  time of great questioning. I wrote about my deliverance from that here:

http://mssc54.wordpress.com/2008/08/26/my-angel-story/

I have personally witnessed a man’s leg grow two inches.  I have personally seen a little girl with a three inch platform shoe on one foot throw that shoe away when her leg miraculously measured to the length of the other.  I have (time and time again) received financial blessings that could not be explained or planned for.  I have sustained traumatic injuries and healed from them far beyond all the doctors expectations.  My life has been transformed and by my life’s transformation my family has not only been made whole but flourished.

I know there will be those who can take each of these instances in my life and explain them away with some sort of scientific explanation or possibly psychological disorder.  How sad for them.

All I know is that God is real in my life.

REMEMBERING AND HONORING OUR AMERICAN HERO

SGT BUDDY JAMES "DOC" HUGHIE

On Sunday, February 19, 2012 we marked the five year anniversary of our American Hero being KIA while serving as an army medic in Afghanistan Asia by having a WREATH LAYING CEREMONY.  I have written a bit about this tragic event (previously) so I won’t take the time here to go over all of that.

I invited Buddy’s former CO to the service and asked if he would be the Key Note Speaker.  They are in OK and we are in SC so it was quite a committment for them to make that seventeen hour drie.  He accepted and brought three other OKNG soldiers with him.  All four soldiers were in Afghanistan with Buddy.  I later found out that one of the soldiers was actually in the same convoy that was ambushed by the Taliban when Buddy was KIA!

Our grandson was only three months, four days old when his Daddy Buddy was KIA.  Now that he is five years old I wanted to do something to help him put some pieces of the puzzle together.  He may not yet recognize that there is a puzzzle but I felt like it was important to do something too not only mark this five year milestone but too also give our little guy some memory of his daddy.

So upon he advice of Randy “Steam” Stevens (the SCPGR Captain) I decided on the Wreath Laying Ceremony.  And since this is a military service and I am a mere civilian it wasn’t the easiest thing to pull off.  I couldn’t have done it without the help of the South Carolina Patriot Guard Riders.  Their State Captain was instrumental in helping me manuever through the various agencies.  And if not for Senator Glenn McConnell the Color Guard would have been a highschool ROTC team.  But I felt like Buddy was a decorated soldier and he deserved real soldiers at this ceremony.  I think he’s earned much more than that.  And although one First Sergant from the South Carolina National Guard initially told me that they usually reserve Color Guards for dignateries or high ranking officials he changed his tune when the Senator’s office inquired.

The Ceremony was scheduled for 1400 hours that Sunday.  When I awoke that morning it was pouring down.  We had gotten over two inches of rain that night and depending on which forecast you looked at the forcast for the remainder of the day was 90%-100% chance of rain for the remainder of the day.  Great!

Fortunately the funeral home that helped with Buddy’s burial was nice enough to erect a tent and put out some chairs for us.  And they didn’t charge anything either!

Around 1230 hours the rain let up.  Since the cemetary is less than two miles from our home I decided to ride down there to check on things.  The tent wasn’t up yet.  I guess since we had thunderstorms the night before they layed the rug and chairs on the ground then placed the half-round tent top over that.

At 1320 hours I rode back down there to make sure the Color Guard and bugelar were there and too see if the tent was up.  There had been a number of challenges so I just wanted to let my family know if there was something not quite right.  The Color Guard was there and the tent was up but no bugelar yet.  I decided, what the heck, I wasn’t going to worry about anything else.  It would either come off or not.

I got a call from the SC Patriot Guard Riders and we were to meet them at a store parking lot so they could escort us down the highway and into the cemetary.  There were about twenty-five to thrity bikes with flags so it was an impressive entrance.  By now our prayers for no rain paid off.  The rain stopped!

When we arrived at the cemetary everyone was there.  We waited a few minutes to exit our vehicles so that the SCPGR could form their flag line.  The Color Guard was in place in their dress uniforms.  The OKNG soldiers were there (standing at attention) in their dress uniforms.  Our pastor was there.  The vocalist (the praise and worship leader at our local church) was there.  I didn’t see the bugelar but he should have been tucked away somewhere in the distance.  Everything was set.

Capt Rowland opened with a few short remarks about the ceremony followed the singing of the National Anthym.  Brad (the vocalist) later told me that he was scared to death about messing up the National Anthym with all those soldiers there.

Next Captain Rowland spoke about Sgt Buddy James “Doc” Hughie.  (And how interesting is it that as Captain Rowland began speaking that the sun actually brok through the clouds?)  As he spoke, I learned some more about Buddy.  I knew he had completed Advanced Infantry Training to perform the duties of an army medic.  However, I did not know that he had also successfully completed Advanced Infantry Training for both Engineering and Military Police!  Captain Rowland said that it was unusual to find a soldier who had completed two AITs and it was virtually unheard of to have a soldier in your unit that  haD completed three!  Sgt Hughie was a very accomplished soldier.  I also learned that day that when they were deployed to New Orleans for Hurricane Katrina relief his unit found a survivor on day five.  Buddy administered life saving treatmentS to her.  Captain Rowland said the elderly woman was laying on her mattress for five days.  He said you could see the water mark on the walls where the flood waters had floated the mattress up to almost the ceiling.

Next our pastor spoke.  He not only spoke about Buddy (whom he knew) but he also spoke about heroes.  Not those who hit or catch or throw a ball but real heroes!  People who step outside their comfort zones.  People who are selfless.  People who will do whatever it takes, even or especially under dire circumstances, in spite of the risk to their own life.

I watched the soldiers, Buddy’s friends.  Captain Rowland had to stop twice to compose  himself when talking about Buddy.  The other three guys were almost ready to break down and openly cry but they kept it together.  It’s difficult to explain but it did me good to see their emotions still so raw after all these years.  They later told me that this is really the first time they had the chance to say goodby.

I was holding together pretty good… until taps began.  Something about that lone bugelar playing that sad song off in the distance.

After the Wreath Laying Ceremony it was time to adjourn to our community clubhouse where we all enjoyed a catered bar-b-que spread.  There were stories about Buddy’s life.  There were laughs.  But the best thing of all is the way our little grandson played with those big burly soldiers of the Oklahoma National Guard.  They picked him up like he was a rag doll and tossed him around.  To hear their laughs, to hear his little giggles to see all their smiles and watch them begin, what I believe will be a life-long relationship, was very healing for me.  And when he gets a little older I think our little grandson will appreciate not only his Daddy Buddy’s life but also appreciate his new soldier friends of the OKNG!

In spite of the circumstances that brought us to that day, Sunday, February 19, 2012 was a pretty good day.

WORSHIP ME I AM LGBT

I just finished reading an article in CHARISMA NEWS.  The article is about the new law the Democratic led government in California passed (SB 40) and Governor Brown signed.

SB 40 goes into effect in California public schools in January 2012.  You can view the CHARISMA NEWS article here http://www.charismanews.com/culture/32431-ads-urge-california-parents-to-rescue-children-from-sexual-indoctrination.

I find this to be very disturbing!  Social engineering is NOT  what the government should be doing with our children.  Why don’t we try actually concentrating on the science, math and reading skills of our children?  How much further down the scale will we allow our public schools to slide before we stand up and say ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!

And just how do you explain to a child in kindergarten, first or second grade about LGBTs?  Is that really what classroom instruction time should be used for?  Well according to the lawmakers in California it is!

You see first those of us in the “straight camp” were expected to tolerate the LGBTs.  Then we were expected to accept the LGBTs.  Now it seems we are supposed to allow our children to be taught to worship them?! 

I will admit I am Old School.  I remember learning about events in history.  I remember learning about people in history.  I don’t remember learning about what sort of sex people were having in school.  And you know what?  Things were okay too.  But now we have to have our children taught about what sort of sex people are having and that they (the children) need to be okay with that or they will be in BIG TROUBLE!

Why can one class of people force their views down the throats of those with differing views?  And don’t try to give me that bull about, “If I don’t openly endorse your life style I am, somehow, intollerant of you.”  Big deal.   I can’t make anyone have sex or stop having sex!

 

http://www.charismanews.com/culture/32431-ads-urge-california-parents-to-rescue-children-from-sexual-indoctrination

http://www.charismanews.com/culture/32431-ads-urge-california-parents-to-rescue-children-from-sexual-indoctrination

HOW DO YOU CHANGE FROM THIS TO THAT?

Determining to change an ingrained habit or a destructive behavior is likely one of the most difficult journeys an individual can take.  It seems logical that the longer you allow a habit or destructive behavior to continue, the more difficult it will be to interrupt that behavior and change directions.  Makes sense (to me).

I have allowed myself to demonstrate a behavior of criticalness for so many, many years.  I can not change what I see or observe but I can choose to make better decisions with those observations.

For me, it began when I finally allowed myself to see the destructiveness of my actions.  It seems pretty simple to sit here at this keyboard and bang out “I have destructive  behaviors.”  But it isn’t really that simple.  I mean who wants to look at the negative impact one’s actions are having?   Who wants to admit that they are (in fact) pretty screwed up in the way with which they interact with people as a whole?  That’s not an easy thing to do. However recognizing your faults, as the first step, may very well be the easy part of any intentional lifestyle change.  Recognizing and naming that “wart” is one thing but figuring out the best way to remove the “wart” is an entirely different undertaking all together.

At this point, this is what I have figured out or recognized.  I will still see and observe the same things.  Life is life and I can’t change that.  I will not make any progress by saying (internally) “Keep your mouth shut!  Don’t say anything critical!”  I’m no Harvard educated PhD with a sheep skin in psychology but it seems to me that if I keep reinforcing the negative by telling myself to not be critical then I am still being critical.  I’m just being critical in stealth mode.  It’s much like saying, “Don’t think pink.  Don’t think pink.”  Well guess what I’ll be thinking?  Pink!

I am not able to undergo such a monumental task of change simply through my own genius and self-will. I must recognize and draw on the strength of the One who lives within me.   Therefore, I have begun a concerted effort of trying to view people, situations and circumstances as I imagine the One Whom created them would view them.  Imagining how or what the Creator may or may not observe doesn’t have to be so difficult.  Just look for the good in that person.  Even the most dysfunctional individual has some worth, some good in them(hand raised here).

I haven’t begun yet but….  Quite some time ago, through selfish acts of my choosing, my family went through a very dark and traumatic season.  That too was very difficult and I was only able to pull out of that season through Devine intervention.  I was (literally) brought to my knees.   I began a regular, dedicated time (with a written list) of prayer.  I can not begin to explain the change in the circumstances of  my life or the intense internal peace I felt as some point.  It was incredible and I can’t understand how or why I have allowed myself to fill that time with inconsequential things. A new season is upon me and I am committed to begin anew with this.

I am committed to become the man, the husband, the father, the grandfather and the friend I was (intentionally) created to be.

A CRITICAL SPIRIT?

Due to an injury I sustained several weeks ago I have had the fortune to be able to spend some time alone.  It’s a rare thing.  Having been able to just sit and think about my life has been revelational.  More so than just a fleeting thought would provide.

I have figured out what surely everyone else around me has known for years, that I am one heck of a critical person!  And the joke has been (on me) that I don’t even need to try to be critical.  It comes easy.  How sad is  that?

You see for more than two decades (literally) I have been one of the people on the Neighborhood Committee who sends you the letter about your lawn maintenance, your broken down car, your green slimed house and god forbid you don’t put your trash receptical away in a timely manner!

After all, we all knew when we moved into The Neighborhood that there were restrictive covenants.  Right?  So that’s the justification (for me).  You knew the rules coming in to the game, so don’t cry about you can’t do this or that.  Just fix it!  Your inability to adhere to the restrictive covenants is not only affecting your property values but it is affecting mine, your neighbors and the entire neighborhood as a whole!  Right?

Believe it or not I used to be such a positive person.  I even used to listen to positive motivational tapes “back in the day.”  Back then, if you didn’t actually like being around me you at least didn’t mind having me around.  But who in the world wants to hang around a guy who is critical about anything and everything.  If you have a wart it’s my responsibility to point it out.  After all, you’ve had the wart for a while now and no one else has pointed out.  Surely you want to get that wart treated.  Don’t you?  So now I find myself being the Wart Police and I don’t like it!  The thing is though, that I have allowed this criticalness to become sp deeply seated.  And I hate it!!

So I have determined that I need have to change the way I view life.  I have to change the way I interact with people.  I have to change the way I speak with people.  I have to change ME!

It finally dawned on me that this was one of the plans of the enemy for me (to become so critical).  You see that is how he does it.  He lies to you.  “What you are doing is a good thing.  People need to have their property investment protected.  You can make a worthwhile contribution.”  The enemy knows that if he throws something up in front of me that I can readily recognize as being ungodly or sinful that I will shy away from that.  But give me something that seems worthy and productive that I can slowly pervert and I can and will likely fall for that.

So change is coming.  I know it won’t be easy.  In fact it may be pretty darned difficult.  In fact in the days since I made known to the Neighborhood Board that I will no longer be involved with The Committee I have received no less than two phone calls and one email regarding some ongoing issues.  Sorry but I can no longer help with that.

I don’t recon that this change will be easy or happen over night, but change I must.  I must become the man my Creator imagined me to be when He intentionally created me.  I’ve lost too many years and damaged too many relationships.  I must love my neighbor.  I must speak life to my acquaintances (maybe a couple will become my friend in the process).

Change is in the air and I am taking deep breaths of it!

SAINT PATRICK’S DAY 2011

 

Here we go again bastardizing yet another Holy Man. 

When St. Patrick was sixteen years old he was captured in his home land of Britain and taken to Ireland as a slave.   Six years later he escaped and returned to his family.  Imagine, as a teenager spending six years in bondage!  Surely he would become bitter.  Not so!  St. Patrick entered the Church and became an ordained Bishop.  At which time he returned to the land where, as a teenager, he was held in slavery.   There, he served as a missionary to the Protestants.  St. Patrick spent his life telling people about the Savior.  St. Patrick wanted everyone to know the only True way to the Father is through the Son.

So let us all celebrate the legacy of  this Holy Man by going out,  getting drunk on green beer, having casual sex with another drunk person, pukeing our guts up and say, ” HAPPY ST. PATRICK’s DAY!!!!!!!”

Perhaps there is a special place for those who use the Godly as their excuse to consume mass quantities of adult beverages.  Perhaps there is.  Think about it.

BE THE EXAMPLE YOU EXPECT TO SEE!!

Veterans Day 2010

Today is the official day to recognise the individuals who have served the USA by putting on military uniforms and (in most cases) going into harms way to preserve our way of life.

As a child I remember looking at the pictures of my dad in his army uniform.  My dad served in the European Theater during WWII.  While driving a jeep one day a grenade exploded behind his seat.  Dad carried shrapnel in his back for the rest of his life.  Understandably he always had back issues.

One thing I think most people don’t realize is that during WWII Uncle Sam gave free cartons of cigarettes to those men and women in uniform.  I guess they figured they needed something to help calm their nerves.  I suppose that there are a number of those same veterans who got hooked on the nicotine who later died on the battle field of lung cancer.  But that is complete conjecture on my part.

I, myself,  served seven years in the US Navy.  I went to Orlando, FL for bootcamp with a friend from highschool but we were almost immediately seperated.    I was stationed at Cecil Field, FL, Meridian, MS and Charleston, SC.  However, I was mostly in the aviation wing of the Navy and made three cruises on the USS John F. Kennedy (9, 11 & 13 months).  There’s something unique about sailing the Medeteranian Ocean with five thousand of your “closest friends.”  The squadron I was in was at Cecil Field and we wold go to Norfolk, VA to catch the Kennedy.   In fact, the outfit I was stationed with was VA-46.  We flew A-7 Corsairs (a single-seater, single engine, attack jet).   I worked on the flight deck as the Oil King during the first cruise.  However, after being nearly blown overboard by the exhaust of and F4, during night-opps in the North Atlantic, I decided office work would better suite me.   Our squadron was involved in the Arab, Israeli conflict in 1973?  In fact one of our aircraft was nearly shot down.  It received a projectile right in the nose of the aircraft.  Twelve inches higher and it would have hit the pilot in the cockpit.  Twelve inches lower and it would have gone through the engine.  And incidentally VA-46 is the same squadron John McCain served in!

I saw lots of jets crash (on deck, in the ocean, into the arresting nets).  I saw a few guys get killed by being careless.  In fact I saw a F14 roll off the angle deck during a landing mishap.  It floated for nearly 45 seconds before it went under with sidewinder missiles on it.  That was an exciting time.  

I can still remember all the countries we visited (Spain, Italy, Greece, France, Scotland, Jamaica, Cuba and Crete).  Scotland was my favorite because I could understand the language.  France was my favorite because of the beaches (hey, I was young and stupid then).  I was only eighteen years old the first time we pulled into port in Cannes, France.  I never realized that French women didn’t shave their arm pits until on the beach that day a topless girl raised her arm for something.  Yikes!!

I’ve been thinking about Buddy and Alexis and little Cooper a good bit lately.  Cooper will be four years old on Sunday.  He was only three months old when Buddy was killed by that Taliban sniper.  If you haven’t read about him here are some links: http://mssc54.wordpress.com/buddy/  Buddy was truly a remarkable young man and would have been the best daddy.  If you want a better glimpse of what (some) families go through when those two green uniforms walk up to their front doors I have written about our journey here: http://mssc54.wordpress.com/our-american-hero/ .  Without question the most difficult experience(s) my family has ever experienced.

My family is not special, in the sense that we are the only ones who have experienced such sudden and profound grief.  There have been hundreds of thousands of families just like ours.  Sadly there will, undoubtedly, be thousands more.

Sometimes I think about Buddy and the joys he must be experiencing in his eternal home.  On an eternal scale I think that Buddy and those (who believe in the Savior) are the ones who kind of “made out” the best.  They (in their eternal home) no longer have to deal with this fallen world.

Just think, there are Veterans right this second who are dealing with profound injuries.  Think not only about those Veterans but think of their spouses, children, moms, dads, friends and relatives.  Every one of their lives have changed… forever.  What would our life be like should we have to be the primary care giver to a profoundly disabled loved one.  God bless and strengthen each one of them.

I encourage you, my fellow citizens, seek out your local Veterans.  Really, intentionally seek them out shake their hands, ask them if you can visit with them for a few minutes.  Sit with them and listen to the story of their lives.  Contact the “nursing homes” in your area and ask them if they have any Veteran residents.  Forge a relationship with them.  Would it be so difficult for each of us to sacrifice thirty minutes of our time once a month for such a noble cause.  Bring your children and teach them what it means to go outside of their comfort zones.  Teach your children to serve those who have served and sacrificed.

There is one thing that I very often wonder about.  I see those yellow magnetic “ribbons” on automobiles that say “Support our troops” or something like that.  I wonder what that means to the person behind the wheel of that vehicle.

So I have a couple of questions if you will indulge me, please.

1.  What does it mean to you to support our troops?

2.  How many of your family members have served in uniform and which branch?

In closing I would like to say THANK YOU to all of our service men and women.  And may the Lord, God Almighty not only bless the United States of America but may He bless the multitudes of the world.

Thank you for visiting my ramblings.

M

My Angel Story (via Mssc54′s Weblog)

June 1999   My father was an abusive alcoholic, who was out of town 4-5 nights a week.  He used to just beat the tar out of me, so much so that my mom would have to "pull him off" of me. I was second in the birth order with 4 sisters and my brother came along when I was 13.   He (my dad) used to take me to his girl friend’s (secretary's) house and I would have to wait out in the car.  I can still see her standing on the steps with that blond hair … Read More

via Mssc54's Weblog